Page 22 of Stuffing My Obsession
The thought knocks the air out of me, almost more than the run itself. It’s insane, reckless, but it’s the truth. Somewhere between the roses on my doorstep and the sound of his gravel-rough voice, between the silences in that old truck and the fire in his kiss, I fell.
And now I can’t stop.
Even knowing what I know…his secrets, his obsession…I can’t unfeel the way my soul recognizes his. Myles Carter is the kind of man I should’ve run from the second I saw him. Instead, I let him in. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t regret it.
Suddenly, I feel a familiar prickle crawl up my neck, sharp enough to make me stumble. My breath catches, and I stop dead, spinning on my heel.
The road is empty. Just the stretch of asphalt, the tree line, mist curling low to the ground. No cars. No people. Nothing.
I let out a shaky laugh, pressing a hand to my chest. “Get a grip, Paris. You’re just—”
“Paris.”
I freeze at the sound of my name. I look up slowly to see a familiar shape walking toward me from the shadows.
Daniel Meyers.
My blood runs cold.
He steps out like he owns the space, hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk curling on his lips. But there’s nothing friendly about it. Nothing boyish or cute like the Danny I remember. His eyes are sharp, dark, and way too…interested.
“Out for a jog?” he drawls. “All alone?”
“Yeah…” I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t know you were also out on a run.”
“I wasn’t. I followed you.”
My heartbeat picks up again at an abnormal pace. “W-what are you talking about?”
He snorts, then steps closer to me, outright invading my space. “Why do you keep pushing me away, Paris?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a silky whisper. “I’ve wanted you since we were kids. Now that I think I might finally have a chance, you come home with some stalker bastard. Good thing he’s out of the picture now, I can have you to myself.” He hooks his hand around my waist to jerk me roughly against his body.
I gasp loudly in shock, instinctively shoving him away. He stumbles backward, muttering a long list of profanities. I spin around quickly and start to run, but I don’t get far. His hand snags my arm and he yanks me back. Hard.
Pain shoots through my shoulder as I stumble, clawing at his grip.
“Let me go!” I thrash, panic clawing up my throat. “Danny, stop!”
But he doesn’t. His fingers dig in tighter, nails biting. His breath is hot and sour against my ear. “You always did run, didn’t you? Always too good for me. But look at you now—”
“Stop it!” My voice cracks. I twist, trying to rip free, but he’s stronger than I remember. Stronger, and angrier.
Panic floods my veins. For a split second, I wonder if this is it. If I’ll end here, choking on fear in the town I grew up in. A place I thought was safe.
But then a familiar voice cuts through the panic in my head.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
It’s a low, lethal command. Familiar yet chilling to the bones.
Myles.
He steps out of the tree line like he was carved out of darkness itself. Broad shoulders, cold eyes, every inch of him radiating controlled violence.
Danny jolts, but doesn’t let go of my arm. His laugh is brittle. “What the hell? Aren’t you supposed to be back in hell where you came from?”
“Hold on to her one second longer and I’ll be sure to break every damn bone in your body.” Myles lowers his voice further with every word, his gaze colder.
Danny sneers, tightening his hold. “Tell him to fucking leave! Now!”
